Henry Constable

"Grace full of grace, though in these verses hereMy love complains of others than of thee,Yet thee alone I loved, and they by me,Thou yet unknown, only mistaken were."

"To you then, you, the fairest of the wise,And wisest of the fair I do appeal.A warrior of your camp by force of eyesMe prisoner took, and will with rigour deal,Except you pity in your heart will place,At whose white hands I only seek for grace."

"My drift was this,Some earthly shadow of thy worth to showWhose heavenly self above world's reason is."

"Only hope of our age, that virtues deadBy your sweet breath should be revived again;Learning discouraged long by rude disdainBy your white hands is only cherished.Thus others' worth by you is honoured.But who shall honour yours? Poor wits, in vainWe seek to pay the debts which you pertainTill from yourself some wealth be borrowed.Lend some your tongues, that every nation mayIn his own hear your virtuous praises blaze;Lend them your wit, your judgment, memory,Lest they themselves should not know what to say;And that thou mayst be loved as much as praised,My heart thou mayst lend them which I gave thee."

"My mistress' worth gave wings unto my museAnd my muse wings did give unto her name,So, like twin birds, my muse bred with her fameTogether now do learn their wings to use.And in this book, which here you may peruse,Abroad they fly, resolved to try the sameAdventure in their flight; and thee, sweet dame,Both she and I for our protection choose;I by my vow, and she by farther rightUnder your phoenix (wing) presume to fly;That from all carrion beaks in safety mightBy one same wing be shrouded, she and I.O happy, if I might but flitter thereWhere you and she and I should be so near."